


Shapecrafty

by starhawk2005



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Ficlet, Het, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-07
Updated: 2012-08-07
Packaged: 2017-11-11 15:52:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/480211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starhawk2005/pseuds/starhawk2005
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What might have happened, if the YED was a shapeshifter who was able to take on human forms and imitate people – such as one John Winchester.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shapecrafty

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Notes: Thanks to vanillafluffy for giving me the idea!

It stands over the cradle, gloating silently. Yes, this child, this contender, turned out beautifully. It looks easily through blood and bone, looking for the signs. Perfect. All It must do is open Its wrist, feed the child his ‘mother’s milk’, and the deed will be nearly done. Another pair of small feet set on the path to glory…if this child turns out to be strong and clever enough.

It’s wearing the same form It did the night this child was conceived. John Winchester was away for work, and it had been easy to take on his form. It had followed him for weeks, unseen, memorizing John’s face, hands, and voice, until It had them down perfectly.

And then It had gone to John’s beautiful wife one night, when the portents were correct. “You’re back early,” she’d said, when he – It – had used Its power to unlock the front door. Just as if It had a key. All part of the subterfuge.

It had grinned with John’s mouth and asked if Dean was in bed yet. Oh yes, It knew everything It needed to about the Winchesters. It had been watching for awhile; It had learned that was always the best way.

This was the easiest part, and the part It liked best. Taking the unsuspecting mortal female to bed. It made It eager, perhaps a little _over_ eager. “John, slow _down_ ,” she’d whispered, low so as not to wake her firstborn, when It had torn her dress open.

“Shhh,” It had said, palming her nipples with John’s hands. It kissed her, with Its imitation of his mouth, and soon slid deeply into her slick flesh, taking her hard. Filling her with Its precious seed.

It had known Its eyes would flash yellow at the height of Its pleasure – It had tried over many years to fix that, but apparently even Demons have their moments of vulnerability - but usually the mortal partner would be too far gone herself, climaxing and clutching at It as she surrendered.

This time it hadn’t gone as smoothly, though. Mary’s eyes had been open, and It knew she’d glimpsed the oddness of Its eyes. Just a flash, but It hadn’t wanted to take a chance.

When It was done, It had pulled out and gone into the bathroom, ignoring her confused questions, so It could finish the essential rituals in privacy. Mary was asleep when It came out, _enspelled_ , exactly as It had planned.

It had made sure that John Winchester came home drunk. It imitated one of his coworkers, dragging him to a bar. Four beers later, It smirked to itself as It dropped John off. Tomorrow morning, Mary would remember having rather rougher-than-usual sex with her husband, and John wouldn’t remember a damned thing. If anything seemed amiss, both would blame his uncharacteristic alcohol consumption.

And now, standing over the newest of Its sons, It’s again wearing John’s shape, so when Mary comes and interrupts them, she thinks nothing of it when It shushes her again. Alone once more, It slits Its wrist with a sharp fingernail and lets the drops fall on baby Sam’s mouth, watching with satisfaction as the infant tastes the drops. Excellent. Only one more thing left-

That’s when Mary bolts back in, and It turns Its yellow eyes on her. “It’s _you_ -“ she gasps.

Well, well, well, it looks like she _does_ remember It. Too bad. For _her_.

It throws her against the wall, pins her in place. It’s spent too much time on this, watching, preparing. It isn’t going to let her ruin it now.

It pushes her onto the ceiling and slices her open. It completes the rite quickly, then allows Mary’s dying screams to draw the real John up the stairs to ‘rescue’ Sam. So It can flame the room and destroy any evidence.

Later It hangs back in the shadows, watching John and his two sons sitting silently on the Impala’s trunk. _Excellent_. It doesn’t always try to create adversity for all of Its children, but It has no qualms about doing it this time.

Fertile soil, for what It hopes will grow from this.

Gloating again, It flits off in search of the next one.


End file.
